


In the Cellar of the Ship

by MarshmallowWrites



Series: Stories of Solara [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Homebrew, Homebrew af, I said nah, Mental Instability, Paranoid, She’s a monk that follows the way of the drunken master, She’s depressed, Written after the other pieces i’ve posted (which is why its better), alcoholic monk, and Abandonment Issues, and self-sacrificing tendencies, enjoy, has self-esteem issues, mention of past character death, once again no beta but i did proof read and revise this one (that’s why its better), other OCs of mine from her past are mentioned but you dont need prior context, she ain’t good rn, so I head cannon that drunken masters cant actually get drunk past a certain level of training, the other players hated me for it, then she turned to weed, these tags are all over the place, they asked me to stop torturing her, they get a bonus to performance, this is a side story i wrote after a session, weed never lets her down, which was bad for her cause that was her coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarshmallowWrites/pseuds/MarshmallowWrites
Summary: Context: The party is resting on a ship belonging to the captain of one of our party members. We had just escaped from Mephistopheles’s layer of hell, one of our members died so we had to go get her soul back. And we also sort of blew up half a continent...and fufilled a prophecy that started a 50 year war....whoops! Solara is one of two fighters in a party of six, our centaur barbarian couldn’t land a hit for shit (he actually clipped Solara with a nat 1) So Solara was going one-on-one (with help from...Cthulhu who was doing the main fighting—but losing so Solara jumped in—don’t ask, longer story, blame the goblin) and she was taking quite a few fireballs to the face and got beaten to hell.Like a normal person, she was rather shaken up by everything...when she’d try to address wtf just happened (and the fact they just inadvertently murdered millions of people, likely her monastery as well)...the rest of the party...were kinda like—eh, get over it—which did not help her mental state. So this is her, alone in the cellar of the ship...starting to go insane, while the rest of the party sleeps peacefully upstairs.Side Note: The barbarian joined late into the campaign, so she was the only fighter at first.





	In the Cellar of the Ship

The ship rocked with the motion of the waves causing the liquid in the mug to slosh with it. Once more, Solara longed for home. To feel and trust the solid, ancient stone beneath her feet, to see the northern lights dancing overhead as she trained, to watch the first rays of the sun crest the mountain peaks…to hear the laughter of her fellow apprentices as they raced along the sheer cliffs—sure-footed like the mountain goats they chased.

_Shut up._

She downed the rest of the drink and filled it again, she’d lost count of how many times she had done this. Some of it had dripped down her chin, she didn’t bother wiping it away. She had to keep drinking, she had to out drink the bad voices.

Master Nari had taught her many things, how to fight beasts and people alike, how to trick opponents, how to strike faster than a normal person could react…but he had never successfully taught her how to fight the voices in her head.

_Master_ _Nari_ _could_ _have_ _stopped_ _the_ _explosion_. It said in the hissing voice of the Yuan-ti apprentice Shalar’i—one of her many tormentors. _Hell_ , _anyone_ _of_ _us_ _could_ _have_ _done_ _it_.

_Shut_ _up_. Solara downed half the mug.

_He_ _poured_ _all_ _his_ _remaining_ _time_ _on_ _this_ _plane_ _of_ _existence_ _into_ _training_ _you_. Now it sounded like Master Hrath, who had voted to kick her out of the monastery. _All_ _his_ _remaining_ _life_ _force_ , _wasted_ _on_ _you_. _And_ _what_ _have_ _you_ _done_ _with_ _such_ _a_ _gift?_ The voice seemed to whisper into her ear. _You_ _have_ _squandered_ _it_. _Was_ _he_ _really_ _that_ _unimportant_ _to_ _you?_

_NO!_   _Shut_ _up!_  Solara threw the mug across the dark room, liquid slung everywhere, the mug clanged and bounced around out of sight. She buried her head in her hands and drew her knees to her chest. She dug the heel of her hands into her eyes, trying to control her breathing.

_You_ _drink_ _so_ _much,_   _are_ _you_ _compensating_ _for_ _something?_ _Or_ _do_ _you_ _enjoy_ _the_ _attention_ _it_ _brings_ _you_. Kharesh, the drow ring leader of the apprentices—he was always able to hunt her down, no matter where she tried to hide. _I_ _suppose_ _at_ _this_ _point,_   _you’ll_ _take_ _any_ _attention_ _you_ _can_ _get—no_ _matter_ _how_ _degrading_.

_Shut_ _up_ …Solara stared up at the dark ceiling, trying to focus on something—anything but the voices.

_The_ _curse_ _of_ _the_ _drunken_ _master,_  Master Nari’s voice—the only kind one, one who’s warning she had so carelessly ignored in her desperation to be wanted. _The_ _curse_ _of_ _the_ _drunken_ _master_ _is_ _that_ _we_ _can_ _imitate_ _a_ _drunkard_ _perfectly_ _and_ _fool_ _our_ _opponents_ — _but_ _we_ _can_ _never_ _truly_ _be_ _drunk,_   _we_ _can_ _only_ _fake_ _it_.

_I’ll_ _just_ _become_ _a_ _stoner_ _instead_. A weak chuckle left her lips, like the last breath of a dying man.

_You’re_ _nothing_ _but_ _a_ _fool_ _to_ _them_. Wali—Kharesh’s right hand man. _A_ _useless_ _fool,_   _too_ _emotional, too_ _weak_ ,  _too_ _needy_. _Nothing_ _ever_ _changes,_   _does_ _it_ _Solara_.

_Shut_ _up_...Even in her own head, her voice was nothing more than a pathetic whimper. She continued to stare lifelessly upward, looking at nothing.

Solara closed her eyes and knelt on the rough wood flooring, she clasped her staff in her hands and prayed to Ilmater for the strength to endure her trials—physical and mental. Like every time before, her fervent pleas were met with silence—the only noise being the ceaseless creaking of the ship and the crashing of the waves. Solara bit back a sob and pressed her hand to the damp floor that smelled strongly of alcohol and wrapped her arms over her head. Her long hair was tangled, but she lacked both the energy to care and the will the tend to it. Her hair was nothing more than a burden, like she was.

_They’re_ _sick_ _of_ _you_. _This_ _voice_ _hurt_ _the_ _most_. _Constantly_ _reinventing_ _yourself,_   _hoping_ _to_ _find_ _a_ _version_ _of_ _you_ _they_ _would_ _like_ — _that_ _you_ _would_ _like_. _Do_ _you_ _even_ _know_ _which_ _version_ _is_ _the_ _real_ _one_ _anymore?_   _The_ _sober_ _one?_   _The_ _stoned_ _one?_   _The_  “ _drunk”_   _one?_   _Or_ _the_ _countless_ _others_ _you_ _have_ _invented_ _over_ _the_ _years?_

_Stop_ _it_. She laid, curled on her side, clawing at her ears—trying to block out the voice.

_You_ _told_ _them_ _you_ _were_ _asexual_ _only_ _because_ _you_ _know_ _no_ _one_ _could_ _ever_ _love_ _you_. _How_ _could_ _you_ _even_ _entertain_ _the_ _thought_ _that_ _she_ _could_ _ever_ _love_ _you?_

_Stop_ _it_ … _please_. Solara bit down hard on her lip to stop the sob that choked her, she tasted copper and clamped down harder.

_They_ _don’t_ _need_ _you_ _anymore, they_ _have_ _a_ _new_ _fighter,_   _stronger_ _than_ _you_ _could_ _ever_ _be_. _They’ll_ _throw_ _you_ _to_ _the_ _side_ _at_ _the_ _earliest_ _convenience_. _That's_ _how_ _its_ _always_ _been_ ,  _that’s_ _how_ _it_ _always_ _will_ _be_ _for_ _you_.

_No_ … _they_ _wouldn’t_ _do_ _that_. She didn’t even believe her own words.

_Maybe_ _if_ _you_ _were_ _actually_ _useful,_   _your_ _parents_ _wouldn’t_ _have_ _dumped_ _you_ _on_ _that_ _mountain_ _top_ _to_ _die_. _They_ _knew_ _before_ _anyone_ _else_ _that_ _you_ _were_ _a_ _complete_ _waste_ _of_ _space_.

A broken sob escaped from her lips, tears streamed down her face. Too weak, too emotional, too needy. She couldn’t fight its words, not when it used her own voice to speak things she knew to be true.

“Master Nari,” she whimpered through her sobs, “how do I fight this?”

The shadows swallowed her plaintive sob, leaving her alone in the darkness of the rocking ship.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love, comments are life. (I’m really just curious if people are actually reading this tbh.) Constructive criticism is appreciated! I’m an art student, I can take it! (I’m already dead inside, how much worse can it get.)


End file.
